Vignettes of a Potter kind
by FireOpal
Summary: Another amendment, people. This time, this is just going to be a collection of one-shots, probably song-fics, for you to peruse at your leisure, in a variety of topics. See inside for editing information.
1. It's in his Kiss

Ok, this is a pointless one-shot songfic, so I'm not really sure why you're reading it, but you can't leave noe! Mwuhahaha! No, don't go, I'm not crazy, honest! Anyway. I own nothing but a battered computer, myself and some handmedown clothes. No suing as you might as well sue a chocolate frog. Not a bad idea... Anway, yes, own nothing, not mine, the song is (i think) the Shoop Shoop Song by Cher. Read and enjoy.

**Title**: It's in his kiss

**Author**: FireOpal

**Summary**: She loves him, but thinks he doesn't know. She doesn't know how he feels, so she watches him. But she doesn't know that he watches her too.

**Pairing**: HPGW, small RWHG.

**SONGFIC** – 'The Shoop Shoop Song' by Cher.

**Fluff!**

**The actual story starts here, so if you're one of those people who ignore the blurb at the top, you start here.**

**11/05/2005** – Amendments made to lyrics when I discovered you weren't allowed to post lyrics in stories! Oops. Full original available via my profile page. Apologies guys.

* * *

She sat, her thin and lithe frame curled up comfortably on one of the many squishy leather armchairs that dotted the Gryffindor Common Room. As she brushed several stray strands of soft red hair out of her face, she forced her soft brown eyes to remain on the piece of blank parchment on her lap. Well, not entirely blank. At the top, in her neat, round hand was written the title to her Potions essay, _'Veritaserum – the making and uses.'_ Typical of Snape to set 2 feet of parchment, overnight on one of the most difficult topics. Inwardly, she admitted to herself that she could've started it earlier, in the Library, where she wouldn't be so distracted, then brushing that thought aside impatiently, she reread the same small paragraph in her open Potions text book, balanced precariously on the arm of the chair.

'_Veritaserum is the most common and powerful truth serum ever invented. Just three drops on the tongue of a victim can have the victim pouring out his/her deepest and darkest secrets. Veritaserum is used in a wide variety of instances, from wizarding games, to important court cases. It causes the victim to become lucid, and pliable to the most direct of questions.'_

Sighing deeply, she chewed restlessly on the end of her well-used quill, as her thoughts once again strayed to a certain black-haired boy, sitting on the other side of the common room, laughing with her brother and a brown haired girl, who seemed to be fruitlessly trying to force them to do their homework. Smiling to herself, she allowed her gaze to take in the familiar face of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Boy-She-Loved.

_(Verse)_

'Really Ginevra Weasley, if you don't finish your homework, you'll end up with another detention from Snape! And besides, he'll never like you, he has Cho to dream about.' She thought to herself crossly, but before she could tear her soft brown eyes from Harrys' face, he seemed to feel her gaze, and looked directly into her eyes. Blushing quickly, she turned her eyes back to her homework, desperately trying to act like nothing had happened.

_(Chorus)_

Trying to ignore the prickling in the hairs on the back of her neck that told her someone was watching her still, she continued to chew the end of her owl feather quill, forcing her mind fruitlessly back onto her homework, and fighting the blush in her cheeks.

'Honestly Ginny, if he catches you looking at him again, he'll either think there's something wrong with him, or that your crush has come back!' Grimacing inwardly as she thought to herself, she remembered her first year. She had had that pathetic crush on the famous Harry Potter, and then he had saved her life like a true hero. Somehow, over the years she had managed to get rid of the schoolgirl crush, and without realising, had found love. Yes, love. Ginevra Weasley officially loved Harry Potter. Not the Boy-Who-Lived, but the one nearly nobody saw. The one who cried over his godfathers' death. The one who hated the fame. The one who loved Quidditch, who didn't want to have to kill Voldemort (Harry had told them at the beginning of the year). Just Harry.

Tearing her mind yet again from these thoughts, she wrote a few vague lines on the parchment, the only sound in the room, apart from the crackling of the fire, and the sound of a howling wind battering at the window. It seemed that Harry was thinking hard about his next move, Ron was lounging back in his chair lazily, and Hermione was watching them silently, slightly disapproving.

As Harrys' hand glided over the pieces, his scarred brow furrowed in thought, he tried not to think about the beautiful girl – no, woman, sitting across the room. He had felt her gaze on him, but when he had looked up into her doe-like eyes, she had blushed slightly, and turned back to homework. Really, his brow wasn't furrowed over the game – he never won anyway, wizards' chess was Rons' speciality – but Ginny. Over the summer, she seemed to have grown up, and Harry (to a slight amount of undeserving shame) found himself falling in love with the independent red head. Shaking his head slightly as he moved his pawn forwards, he tried to dislodge his thoughts. She would never love him, Hermione had said that she had got over her crush on him years ago.

_(Chorus)_

Ginny watched as he carefully moved the pieces, and they jeered at him when Ron made a simple move to take his remaining knight. Harry was her knight, in shining armour... Inwardly groaning at the persistent thoughts, she tried to read some more of her potions textbook, but the words seemed to be slipping away, meaningless...

_Veritaserum can also be used... with added wormwood... calming draught... or very powerful... what beautiful emerald eyes... or alternatively as a potent psychological healing potion with a pinch of... and unruly silky raven hair... _

Her gaze slipped back onto the centre of her thoughts, as he laughed when one of Rons' bishops made a particularly odd comment. How handsome he is when he laughs, he should do it more often...

_(Verse)_

All she wanted to do was make him happy, make him laugh. After the start of the Second War, and the death of Sirius, she had barely ever seen him laugh, or even smile. Oh how she wished she could just hug him, hold him close, make all his pain, his responsibilities, his hurt, make it all go away. If only she could kiss him...

Harry felt Ginnys' gaze on him again, and wondered silently to himself. Maybe something was wrong, or someone had given him one of the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes sweets, and his hair had turned bright pink. Horrified at the thought, he quickly look at Hermione, but then felt reassured when she didn't mention anything involving pink hair. Still, the thought niggled him...

He laughed out loud when Rons' bishop said something, mainly to relieve a lot of the tension he was feeling. He chanced a quick fleeting glance at the studious, and mysterious red haired woman sitting so comfortably across the room, and saw her look away, just as Ron moved a piece on the now-empty board, and yell out to the common room.

"Check mate, mate! Honestly, wizards' chess isn't that difficult, Harry. I don't understand how you lose every time!"

"Maybe because he spends more time studying for his NEWTS, than having a pointless game of chess!" interrupted Hermione, her words softened by a slight wry smile, as she quickly glanced at the still-jubilant Ron, her cheeks blushing very slightly before she turned back to her book. Harry saw all of this, and grinned inwardly. Hermione seemed to be finally succumbing to the inescapable – that she loved Ron. He watched Ron shoot her a quick glance as Hermione buried herself in '_So you want to start your own protection agency.' (_SPEW again). As the tips of Rons' ears glowed red faintly, Harry grinned inwardly again. If only his own love loved him like this...

_(Chorus)_

Ginny watched the whole scene from afar, as usual, feeling a strong pang of jealousy when she watched the three friends. If only she could be so close to Harry... She continued to watch, on and off (still desperately trying to concentrate on her Potions homework and failing, miserably), as Ron and Harry discussed Quidditch for a while, laughing over the recent Chudley Canons victory over the Whistling Witches, a popular team from Kent. However, as she looked up the precise recipe for Veritaserum in her textbook, she didn't notice Harry staring at her, watching her soft red hair fall across her face, unnoticed by his best friends, as they were arguing again.

_(Chorus)_

Quickly drawing his rapt attention away from Ginny, Harry watched his friends argue, yet again, stifling a laugh as he wondered when they would finally realise each other.

"Honestly Ron, chess isn't important! How many times have you seen people playing chess in everyday situations? I mean, Harry isn't exactly going to invite Voldemort over for a chess match to decide the outcome of the war, is he?" she gave him a quick, almost frightened glance as she mentioned him, but he wasn't really paying that much attention, despite his best efforts.

"But it's a very important strategy game! Besides, it's mainly a game, something I know you don't come across very often, as you're too busy either bugging us about our work, or trying to free a load of house elves who don't want to be freed!" At this comment, Hermione flushed a deep pink, and after shooting a deadly glare at a flaming Ron, she muttered a forced reply.

"If you care so little for the welfare of our fellow magical creatures, then I'll have to bid you goodnight. 'Night Harry." As she made the last comment, she flashed a quick, small smile at Harry, clearly showing she wasn't angry with him, and he nodded, so she stalked off to her dormitory, still clutching her book.

"What's she in such a stress for?" said Ron, still looking bewildered, but angry. Then he turned to Harry, who tactfully shrugged slightly, pretending to gaze into the fire. Ron yawned. "I think I'll go to bed, mate. You coming?" Harry spoke for the first time that evening, and in her chair, Ginny suppressed a shiver as she heard his delightful voice, so kind, so gentle.

"No, I think I'll stay up a little while longer. I'll be up soon." Ron nodded, and after quickly packing away the chess set, and muttering goodnight to Harry and Ginny, he stomped off to the dormitories.

All was silent now in the common room, and an uncomfortable tension filled the atmosphere, Harry staring into the dying fire, mind racing, Ginny now unashamedly staring at Harry. After a few seconds, Harry felt her stare on him, and looked up, catching her eyes in his in a gentle gaze.

"Ginny? Are you ok?" Ginny blushed, and nodded, turning her eyes away again. She didn't notice when Harry walked across the room to sit in the chair beside her, and started slightly when he spoke again.

"Erm, are you doing your Potions homework?" 'Yeah, really intelligent Harry, she's sitting there with her Potions textbook, and you ask her if she's doing her Potions homework.' Ginny nodded again, tucking her hair behind her ear as she elaborated.

"Yeah, Snape gave us an essay on Veritaserum. Evil git." Harry nodded, feeling stupid sitting here, but trying to get it over and done with.

_(Chorus)_

Ginny continued to watch Harry, as he fought an internal battle with himself, almost squirming into his chair.

"Are you ok?" she said casually, trying to remove some of the tension in the air. He nodded again, and she turned away from him, suddenly aware of how silly she must look.

"Erm, Ginny? W-Would you mind if – I mean, do you think I- er," he stuttered, his palms sweating and his glasses almost sliding down his nose with worry. He rubbed his hands together briefly, gathering his confidence, carefully avoiding Ginnys' gaze. Then he spoke up again, his voice low and quiet. "I'm sorry about this." With those words, he leant across to Ginny, took her Potions textbook from her lap, and, placing his hand gently on the side of her face, kissed her gently on her soft lips. Ginny was stunned for a few seconds, but as she felt Harry draw back from the kiss, obviously sorry for forcing it on her, she moved forwards and touched her lips with hers.

Pulling back, Harry smiled weakly at her, and she grinned back at him, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes dancing. Then, she pulled forwards to Harrys' face, and kissed him herself, her heart dancing. She was finally kissing Harry, and it felt so right, she could feel his love...

_(Chorus)_

Aaaaahhh. Sweet! Cute! Now review!

PS: I'd like to thank from the bottom of my heart, a very kind reviewer, Jedimaster Igor, who showed me the correct spelling of Veritaserum. Thank you, and I apologize to everyone for this now corrected mistake.


	2. For You

Ok, loyal fans, and new fans, don't kill me, I promise to post more on 'Pain, Prophecies and Power', and hopefully, when my muse decides to stop ignoring it, 'Who Wants to Live Forever?' However, I was sitting perfectly innocently, reading a few fics, when this song came on, and I jsut had to write this. Don't feel sorry for yourselves too much, I was distracted from my English essay to write this! Anyway, as you can see, I have a new arrangement when posting songfics, as I decided they take up too much room! Well, they might do one day.  
The arrangement goes thus: Each 'chapter' is not related, unless I specifically state so here. And I don't. They are not in any order, except in which they were written. These, so far, will all be Harry/Ginny, so shippers, have fun! I just love toying with everyone's love lives, must make me a pretty sad individual...  
Ahem, anyway, onto the fic. This is very mild, slightly fluffy, slightly angsty, fun, to a catchy tune! 'For You' is a great song by The Calling, and was used in the film 'Daredevil'. I own nothing, so thankyou JKR and The Calling for lending me your stuff, even though they probably don't know! Anyway, read on...

**Title**: For You

**Author**: FireOpal

**Summary**: She watches over him, as he cries. She wants to hold him close, and wish his pain away, but can't. Will she summon up the courage before it's too late?

**Pairing**: HPGW

**SONGFIC** – 'For You' by The Calling.

**Fluff/Angst!**

**11/05/2005** – Amendments made to lyrics when I discovered you weren't allowed to post lyrics in stories! Oops. Full original available via my profile page. Apologies guys.

* * *

Harry sat in the darkened back corner of the Gryffindor Common room, late at night. His knees were drawn up to his chest, his darkly shaded face a picture of deep misery. The single shaft of moonlight shining through the thin window cast deeper shadows, and made his skin look ghostly where touched, and his eyes shine with tears. The soft leather armchair he was curled up on stood facing the window, away from the empty common room, the fire in the hearth long since gone out, and so the only light was a solitary beam of silvery moonlight. It had been three months – three long months, and still he sat here each night, bearing his heart to the velvet night, embracing the peace it brought.

_(Verse 1)_

In a corner of the supposedly empty common room, a girl too stood her silent vigil, but whereas the vigil of Harry Potter was of one of misery, sorrow for his godfather, fear of Voldemort, hatred of his life; the girls' was of sympathy, sorrow to see the boy in this state, but unwilling to step in, afraid of the consequences.

Carefully positioned so that none of her body was able to be seen in the gloom, she brushed back her soft red hair, and perched herself on the steps from the dormitories. So much for Gryffindor courage - she couldn't even go over to him, her brothers' best friend and tell him. Tell him that she wanted to hold him close, to help him, to soothe his fears away. But she would stay, and be here for him, even if he could never know.

_(Chorus)_

He didn't move, there was no sign that he was there, let alone alive, save for the gentle rising of his chest when he breathed, and when his hand would dart into the moonlight to wipe the tears off of his face. He knew he would have to go to bed soon, that Ron would be lying awake in the dormitories, waiting for him to come to bed, but never saying a word. And there was something else... A presence almost. Brushing it away as wishful thinking, he turned his mind away from laments with difficulty, and turned his attention onto another thing he had to ponder. A certain pretty red haired girl, and his feelings...

_(Verse 2)_

She moved a little, testing her weight carefully, before changing position to be more comfortable. Inside her thoughts and feelings were a turmoil, guilt at not being able to help him, fear at his reaction, sadness that he felt like this and that he would never see her, the deep pain she saw every time she looked into his emerald eyes. The same expression she knew she wore repeated on the faces of her friends, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Luna – fear, pain, determination, comradeship, and a sense of being older than ever before.

Only a few weeks ago, there had been the reading of Sirius' will, Harry had been pale and silent throughout, barely listening, Remus had been pale and tired, ill as the moon approached, Ron and Hermione passing each other worried glances. And only 3 months ago, she had been there, at the Department of Mysteries, watching through dazed eyes as Sirius fell through the veil, Harry struggling against Remus' grip, Bellatrix with a smirk as she cast her cousin to his death. Suddenly, she felt the tears too, pushing them back as she watched, silent.

_(Chorus)_

Harry considered the red head that seemed more dear to him than anyone else, even Ron and Hermione, who seemed to tell him with her eyes, soft, gentle, brown eyes, that she knew. She truly knew, but if she didn't it didn't matter, and she was still there. Was there for him, almost. But she couldn't be – he wouldn't let any of them get caught up with this. They knew the prophecy, but he doubted if they truly understood. Victim or murderer. Kill or be killed. But she understood, or he thought she did, and she understood that he was pushing them away, not just through his grief, but his love for them. Love that could be their downfall. It was just too confusing. He remembered the day he had told him, and after their initial reactions of shock and fear, they had pulled together...

"It'll be all right, mate. I mean, you've got him before, what's one more time? And we'll be there, right at the end, whether you win or not." Ron said, pale, but eyes shining determinedly. Hermione looked just as pale, in fact they all did, even Luna, who looked less dreamy than usual.

"Yes, Ron's right. We'll be there for you. And we'll help." Hermione added, giving him a brief hug. His eyes then strayed to the youngest Weasley, who returned his gaze with fear, sympathy, sadness, and love, making him feel stronger, repairing his broken heart, just a little.

Then his gaze moved from the silent girl, whose eyes had spoken more to him than all their pledges. He glanced over Neville, who looked sick, but must have been starting to take after his parents even more, judging the almost formidable look in his eye. Luna fixed him with a look, strange and mysterious, and for a second, he had wondered whether she had known all along, some how...

_(Verse)_

Suddenly, Ginny felt her heart strengthen, as if someone had breathed the golden strength of a lion into it, vibrating through her veins and into her, threading through her, dancing in her eyes. She knew, as she moved gracefully from her hiding place, that this was what she had been waiting for, watching for all this time. Her eyes betrayed emotion, and the flame of strong belief. She would be there for him, whatever happened, and whatever he felt. Moving to stand beside the silent boy, no man, she stayed silent, until he looked up and spoke, his voice slightly hoarse from the hastily wiped-away tears.

"Gin? What are you doing up? Shouldn't you be in bed?" The look from his jade eyes almost made her melt, and his voice cast a shiver down her spine, but she stayed strong.

"I'm up because you are. You might not have noticed, but I've been here every night, watching you, wanting to help, but something held me back. Not any more. No matter what you say, or think, or do, I will be here, by your side, helping you, and fighting with you. I-I love you, Harry." She laughed slightly nervously, looking away from the object of her affections and sorrow.

"Gin," said Harry softly, struggling with his emotions and thoughts as they ran wild rings around him. Then, tentatively, he touched her shoulder as he stood, straightening. "I-I think, I think I love you too. You were the one I always did, and still do, think of as my shining star, you're happy, free, caring, funny, compassionate. Part of me is telling me to wrap my arms around you and hold you close, and another part of me, the part that Sir- he, that makes me feel guilty, tells me I should let you go, so you won't get hurt, so I can shelter you from all this, all the war, the pain, the hurt." Ginny didn't turn, and could feel his gaze on her neck, as she felt a gentle hand touch her shoulder.

"I said I'd be there for you, whether you like it or not, whether you love me or not." Ginny could feel the tears again, but still held them back as they attempted to choke her voice.

"In that case," said Harry, half-choking on his words, a feeble grin spreading across his face. "I might as well do this, seeing as you're all gonna follow me anyway, fools the lot of you." And with that, just as she turned to look back at him, he kissed her cheek gently. She wrapped her thin arms around his chest, burying her face into the soft material, then looking up into the slightly sparkling, still haunted green eyes that surrounded her vision.

"You make me feel like I can be the man to save the day." He choked, as Ginny held him closer, holding him as the tears fell.

"I'm here for you, Harry. I always will be." She vowed, holding him in her arms, stroking his hair.

_(Chorus)_


	3. Nobody's Home

Hi guys, hope you're prepared for something slightly different! Oh, well, if you're not, then read it anyway. Warning – this is NOT HP/GW fluff. This is decidedly different. In fact, it isn't romance at all. Bet you're wondering what I'm doing then? Well, I was just listening to the new song from Avril Lavigne, 'Nobody's Home', and I just thought it was so Harry. So, after a few alterations to make it masculine (it helps when reading, trust me), I got this. Hope you enjoy.

**Title**: Nobody's Home

**Author**: FireOpal

**Summary**: 'I couldn't tell you why he felt that way/ He felt it everyday /And I couldn't help him/ I just watched him make the same mistakes again.'

**Genre**: Angst.

**Pairings**: None, except JP/LP.

**SONGFIC**: 'Nobody's Home' by Avril Lavigne.

**11/05/2005** – Amendments made to lyrics when I discovered you weren't allowed to post lyrics in stories! Oops. Full original available via my profile page. Apologies guys.

* * *

It was late afternoon, the wind starting to pick up a chill as evening crept into the sky. Overhead, clear blue with dusky sunlight leant light to the lonely, deserted residential estate. Only a single person walked down the footpath, not looking where he's going, black hair ruffled by the wind, over big jeans scuffing the tarmac as they draped over old trainers. His hands were jammed deeply into the pockets of a worn jacket, head bowed, as he trudged onwards.

Harry had been walking, for how long he wasn't entirely sure. After all, all these London estates look the same, and he hadn't really taken in his surroundings much. It must have been a few hours at least, as he remembered escaping his diligent guards at number 4 in the early afternoon, and now it was getting late. Somehow, though, he still didn't want to return. Like something was pulling him onwards, taking him somewhere he had to go.

_(Verse)_

Inwardly, he wondered whether this was entirely a good idea; escaping the Order and wandering the streets of London alone, with only his wand jammed deep into his trouser pocket. Hell, he wasn't even looking where he was going, but he wasn't lost. Not yet. Some small part of his mind felt guilty and apprehensive of what they would say, Remus especially. After all, knowing them, they'd be worried out of their minds, and he was all the old werewolf had. Remus was all he had. Yes, he had Ron and Hermione, but they were his friends, not his family. He couldn't turn to them for experienced advice. He couldn't tell them what he felt.

_(Verse)_

Turning to the other members of his 'family', he thought of Mr and Mrs Weasley. Yes, they were very kind to him, and Mrs Weasley's hugs were legendary, but he still missed _them_. Anyway, they had seven children of their own to look after, to praise, to cherish. And they didn't know, any of them. He hadn't wanted to make them embarrassed or worried, so he hadn't told them the prophecy. He wanted someone he could turn to, who would understand him, treat him like an adult, but know he needed comfort occasionally. He let out a small derisive snort as he thought of his so-called 'relatives'. Yeah, like he could suddenly turn to Aunt Petunia and say,

"Aunt Petunia, can you help me? I just killed my godfather, Voldemort's back to life because of me, and incidentally he wants to kill me. What do you think I should do?"

_(Chorus)_

It was silly really, to want anything else. He had Remus, who had promised him he could turn to at a moments notice, he had two amazing friends, the Weasleys', his teachers. But deep inside, he knew. Ever since he had looked into the Mirror of Erised, and seen his parents standing beside him, smiling, he had known. He wanted a mum and dad.

Still not watching where he was going, his feet seeming to lead him, he turned left at a corner, and continued along the pavement, scuffing his feet, not looking up.

Sirius had been wonderful, a brilliant substitute for his dad. He had felt wanted, loved, cared for. He had been able to talk to him, joke with him, tell him about anything he was worried about – things he had always imagined he could do with his parents. But then, through his own stupidity, he had lost him. The image of the still young man falling through the veil still haunted his nightmares; occasionally standing face to face with him, telling him it was all his fault. Cedric joined in too, and the jeering and snarling faces of countless other victims of Voldemort plagued his mind, sending him screaming back into the conscious world.

_(Verse)._

A jolt of electricity running across his spine, made him look up. After glancing around warily, looking for any sign of what might've alerted his senses, he was sure there were no Death Eaters around, but when his gaze reached the end of the street, his heart stopped. Standing still, stricken in the middle of the pavement, the wind tugged at his hair and clothes and face, but he didn't feel it. All he saw was the house at the end of the street.

It was surprising it was still standing, after all, the windows looked like they had been blown in, and contained no glass, the walls were ruinous, the roof hanging off of it like a piece of material draped over the unstable walls. The front door, painted with peeling green paint, looked like it had been blasted in as well, hanging off of its hinges crazily. For a split second, while his brain remained mostly shut down, a part of him wondered why it was still standing and hadn't been demolished. But as his brain started to function again, he noticed that it was somehow not quite part of the scenery, like the Leaky Cauldron had been in London. _Muggles can't see it…_

_(Chorus)_

Barely registering what he was doing, he broke into a run, keeping his eyes fixed on the house. He only shuddered to a halt when he reached the front gate, the same peeling green as the front door. He pushed it open gently, his heart hammering, not even knowing why he was doing this. Something struck him as familiar though, and he let it creak shut after him, taking small footsteps up to the front door. Beside it, on a small dirtied plaque nailed to the wall he read the words he both wanted and didn't want to read.

_Godric's Hollow._

His parents house. His house. Where his parents died protecting him, where Voldemort came, and was banished. Godrics Hollow. He was trembling now, standing in front of the door, uncertain. It was his house, but did he really want to go in? Dumbledore had told him where his parents had been buried, had even let Remus and a few members of the Order take him there. But this was different.

After a few seconds, he realised what he was doing, and, feeling slightly daft, summoned up his courage, and walked into the hall.

The walls had, at one time, been wallpapered with a soft cream pattern, the ceiling hung low in the middle, as if someone was sitting on it, and the carpet underfoot was damn and mouldy, but he could still detect the beige colouring. On his immediate left, there was a tall wooden hat stand that had been knocked to the floor, and a solitary black cloak lay under it, presumably where it had fallen when the stand had been knocked over. He felt a small pang as he saw this. His fathers' cloak.

Tearing his eyes from the almost mundane things before him, he noticed a few pictures that still hung on the walls. As he gently stepped over to one, he saw it was a photograph of his parents, Remus and Sirius, standing outside of Hogwarts. Lily was in her wedding dress, and smiling beautifully, James was grinning like a fool, in his smart robes, occasionally leaning over to kiss his wife on the cheek. Remus and Sirius where also in robes, and stood to one side from the happy couple, grinning as well. Peter was nowhere in sight, so Harry presumed he must've been the one who had taken the picture – but this thought didn't make him angry or resentful, only sad.

He suddenly straightened the picture carefully, and bent down to pick up the stand. He didn't know why he was trying to tidy the place up at all, but it felt wrong to just leave it as it was. Turning back to the main hall, he chose the first door on the left. The living room.

Harry turned the handle, and walked carefully into the room. This one didn't look as bad, most of the furniture was still in place, so he presumed that Voldemort hadn't come in here to find them. It was a largeish room, smelling strongly of mould and dust. The main window let in some light through the empty frame, and lit up the room. There was a large sofa, with two matching armchairs, typically in gold and red. One of the armchairs looked more broken in than the rest of the furniture, and he smiled slightly, as he supposed it was Sirius'. His godfather had always had a relaxed attitude to furniture – and flopping down in it heavily seemed just like him.

Harry was slightly surprised to see a television, but as his mother had been muggleborn, he figured that that was her influence. As with most wizarding homes, there was large, well-used looking fireplace in the middle of one wall, soot still lying around it. In front of the sofa, was a small coffee table, and a few magazines that looked like they had been laying on it where scattered on the floor. They bore titles like 'Witch Weekly', 'The Quidditch Companion' and there was even a copy of 'The Daily Prophet'. There were a few more photos, some of people he didn't recognise, a couple of people from the photo Moody had shown him of the old Order, another Marauder group photo. Harry studied these for a few moments, tears springing to his eyes, before he tore himself away, and went back out into the hall.

Before he could decide where to explore next, he found himself drawn upstairs, by the same force that had pulled him here in the first place. Treading carefully so as not to upset the weak walls and structure, he reached the top of the stairs, and took the first room he saw.

It was his parents room, that much was obvious from the double bed, and the large sign he saw on the door – 'Marauders Prohibited!' He smiled again as he thought of what had happened before his mother (it must've been his mother, after all, who else would place it there?) had put it up. This room was decorated in soft blues, and the carpet was a deep azure. There was the large double bed, reminding him strongly of the four posters they had at Hogwarts with it's deep coloured oak wood and decorated carvings. There was even a wardrobe, which Harry opened, finding, to his amazement, pristine clothes. It seemed an odd mix of his mothers' and fathers' clothes – muggle and wizarding. There was even his parents wedding clothes; his mothers long white gown, resplendent with tiny shimmering beads and glittering threads, carefully woven into the material. His fathers robes were there too, raven black and smart, a stiff collar and long, sweeping sleeves.

Harry carefully replaced the clothes, and closed the door. There was something he was missing here, something he still needed to see. He continued through the room for a second, before realising that what he was looking for wasn't in here. Tearing himself away from the bedroom, he went back to the top of the stairs, and entered the last room, ignoring the bathroom.

This was what he was looking for. What he was looking for all along. The room. He pushed open the door timidly, noting the plaque on the door that read 'Harry's Room', surrounded by dancing snitches. The door opened to reveal a smallish room, just the size for a young child, painted in soft green. The carpet was beige, and in the far corner stood a cot, the tiny covers flung back, as though something had been rapidly taken from it. Now he felt the tears spring to his eyes more than ever, but still he surveyed the room. There was a small shelf, carrying books like 'The Amazing Adventures of Spiffy the Snitch', and also held four tiny soft toys, each a replica of each animal form of the Marauders. The large black dog looked the most used.

_(Verse)_

The tears were running thick now, and no amount of brushing them away could stop them. He could picture it, the memory from when he came too near Dementors aiding his imagination.

_She stood, sobbing quietly, holding her child to her closely. It was too late to run, too late to hide. He would find them anyway. She could hear the sounds of spells from here, heard the shouts and cries from her husband. She even heard the final words 'Avada Kedavra' and the thump as James fell to the floor. Surprisingly, this calmed her. At least he would be there when she came to join him, and she'd be damned if she went without a fight. Sniffing quietly, she moved to the cot, placing her precious son down into it, and kissed his forehead. He seemed to know something was up, and he was quiet, his tiny emerald eyes shining fearfully. She gave him a small weak smile, and whispered in a hoarse voice._

"_I love you, Harry."_

_Just at that second, the door to the room opened forcefully, and the cloaked and hooded figure of Lord Voldemort walked in._

"_Ah, Lily, so good to see you again. Now, you know what I want, and your foolish husband has already paid for his mistake."_

"_No, Tom, you won't have him." Suddenly the calm left her as the forbidding figure walked closer, wand out, and pointed directly at her son.  
"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"_

"_Stand aside you silly girl." Voldemort sneered, trying to get past the woman before him._

"_Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead…please, have mercy, have mercy…" Lily's eyes were wide with terror, her face shining with tears. She watched as the figure turned to her, and braced herself. The immortal words rang in the air as she fell to the ground._

"_Avada Kedavra" _

It was his fault. Voldemort had wanted him, not his parents, him. Sirius, Lily, James, Cedric, all had died because of him.

(Verse) 

He didn't want all this. He just wanted a normal life – to have parents, friends, family. To be safe, to be happy. Not to be the 'Boy-Who-Lived', not to be the 'Boy-Who-Has-To-Kill-Voldemort', not even the 'Youngest Seeker in a Century'. He wanted to be able to worry about zits, his homework, exam deadlines, girls. Normal things.

_(Chorus)_

He couldn't even stand now, just rested his back against the wall, not caring if it suddenly gave out under his weight, and sank down onto the floor, his knees tucked close to his chest, head bowed, sobs wracking his body. He didn't look up; not when his ears caught the sound of someone apparating below him, not when he heard gentle footsteps on the stairs, when he heard the door creak open, or felt someone sit next to him and pull him onto their lap. As he sobbed, he could smell mustiness, soap, and something he couldn't recognise, and knew he was in safe hands.

(Chorus) 

As he held the sobbing boy in his arms, close to him, Remus held back his tears. He hadn't stepped inside this house since James and Lily had died. And now, he sat, holding their son in his arms, the last true Marauder, and the saviour of the world, a boy crying for his parents, his godfather, and a life that could never be. A boy who could never be young, never play innocently with his family. And they cried together.

Read and Review.

Note – Poor Remus, he's always there to take up the slack!


	4. When The Stars Go Blue

**Title**: When The Stars Go Blue

**Author**: FireOpal

**Summary**: Did you ever wonder what Hermione might've seen, had she looked into the Mirror of Erised in her first year? And did you ever think about whatmight've happened after Harry passed out? Did you ever speculate if there couldn't have been something prophetic about the Mirror after all?

**Genre**: Angst.

**Pairings**: HG/RW, HP/GW.

**SONGFIC**: 'When The Stars Go Blue' originally by Bryan Adams, this version by the Corrs, featuring Bono.

**11/05/2005** – Amendments made to lyrics when I discovered you weren't allowed to post lyrics in stories! Oops. Full original available via my profile page. Apologies guys.

I first thought of this fanfic a while ago, then heard this, rather haunting song and knew I had to add it. Ah, fate it seems had a good hand on this round. And then I thought about what Ron mentions in the 'Philosopher's Stone' –

"Do you think this mirror tells the future?" (p155 – The Mirror of Erised.). And so, with this quote in mind, I leave you to the story.

* * *

"HARRY!"

"Contain yourself, Miss Granger. I must take Harry up to the hospital wing."

"Of course, Professor. Is he, is he going to be alright?"

"Of course Miss Granger. Now if you would- "

"Sorry Professor."

Hermione stood aside as Professor Dumbledore walked past her, levitating Harrys' unconscious form with his wand. He nodded to her as he walked past, and even gave her a small smile, but she still shivered, white faced and dirt-covered. The night had been a long one, and she was dreadfully worried about her friends. Just as she turned from the fateful room where Harry had been found, clutching the blood red stone tightly, she noticed a stick on the floor. As she bent down to pick it up, her fingers closing around the smooth wood of Harrys' wand, she felt a surge of energy from it. Lifting it up to the dim light, she examined it carefully, but saw nothing unusual, so pocketed it, to give it back to her friend later. As she turned to leave for a second time, she saw a glint, light reflected off of something at the far end of the room.

Glancing at the door nervously, she wondered whether she should investigate. After all, they weren't supposed to be down here at all, and were probably going to get expelled. However, her innate curiosity won over, and, flicking back her untameable bushy hair, she walked cautiously down the stone steps, her small feet making a lot of noise.

_(Verse 1)_

As she drew closer, she realised that it wasn't just metal, it was a mirror. A large, heavily decorated mirror, ornate and grand. For a second, she stood to one side, (already cautious of wizarding items) and suddenly noticed what looked like writing at the top.

_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

For a few minutes, she stood, young face contorted in a puzzled frown as she studied the gothic script. Then, it smoothed, and she smiled, and recited to herself under her breath as she figured out the code.

"Is, no I shown, show, not your fa, face, but yourhe your hearts des, desire!" Her soft brown eyes twinkled, and she reran the sentence to understand it properly. "I show not your face, but your heart's desire."

Suddenly, she felt a shiver down her spine, and her breath quickened. _Her heart's desire…_ What would it show? Had Harry seen this? Who had made such a mirror?

Without feeling as if she was actually in control of her own body, her legs stepped in front of the mirror, her eyes closing nervously. After a few seconds waiting, and now feeling foolish (something Hermione hates), she opened one eye, and, seeing no immediate danger, opened the other, and stared at the image in front of her.

_(Verse 2)_

It seemed to be an older girl, with long, curly, beautiful brown hair, which sparkled in the sunlight. They were outside Hermione realised, the sun was shining, and the girl was standing beside the lake outside of Hogwarts. She had bright brown eyes, which twinkled with happiness, and, with a jolt, Hermione realised it was her. An older her. In this image, she appeared to be about seventeen, maybe eighteen and wearing well-cut robes in graduations of blue. Looking around the rest of the picture, she saw a tall, lean man of the same age had his arms around her, laughing silently, and occasionally reaching down to peck her cheek. His robes must've been made to fit his hair, as they were dark blue. He had mounds of freckles, and bright red hair, which could only mean one thing… Ron Weasley.

Hermione laughed, the nervous sound echoing through the forbidding room, but the effect was lost on her. Here she was, being kissed by none other than Ronald Weasley, chess player, and crazy idiot extraordinaire. It was laughable!

Tearing her eyes away from the happy scene, she looked around, and recognised Harry's distinctive never-been-brushed raven hair and emerald eyes. He was laughing too, a wide grin spread across his face, and he looked happy and carefree. His clothes were robes too, long and impressive in deep jet black, with carefully sown threads of deep ruby and gold, which caught the light. He had his arms around a girl too, and younger girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen, and judging by the hair, she was another Weasley. She was very pretty, with joy and love filled chocolate eyes and poker straight red hair, which fluttered in the wind. Her robes, more like a dress, was in the colour of a meadow – bright green and floaty, with delicate golden embroidery.

With a pang, the clever witch realised what this represented. Here, in the mirror, she had friends. She had someone who loved her (even if it was Ron Weasley), and she was happy. Yes, she had her parents, but they were muggles and didn't understand her. Maybe they never had. But here, she was with people of her own kind, laughing, joking, loving…

_(Chorus)_

A lonely tear coursed it's way across her grimy cheek, leaving a clean streak. It was quickly followed by another as Hermione continued to gaze at the happy scene. How she wished she were these people, so happy, so understood, so loved. Not lonely. Trying to keep her slipping composure, the young girl brushed at the stream of tears, but as they were quickly replaced by more, she soon gave up. Hermione watched hypnotised as the image-Ron leant across her to kiss her lightly on the cheek, and the image-Hermione giggled and leant back to kiss him on the lips. The lonely girl just touched her face gently with her hand, just where the image-Ron had kissed her, no, the image-Hermione.

_(Verse 3)_

Suddenly, the images moved, as if standing and posing for a group photo. The image Ron stood at the back, being much taller than anyone else, and the younger Weasley stood at the front, leaning dramatically over the image-Harry, her white arms flung out as if she had feinted. The image-Harry was struggling against a laugh, and grinned hugely at her, and Hermione couldn't help grinning back. The image-Hermione batted the red-heads arm gently, and the younger girl stuck her tongue out playfully, before assuming a more composed pose. They were all smiling, image-Hermione was smiling toothily, and young Hermione couldn't help but notice her straight teeth. So perfect.

_(Chorus)_

All of a sudden, a voice in her head seemed to cut through her dazed thoughts. It was maybe her own, or maybe someone older and with a deeper voice, like Professor Dumbledore.

'It does not do to dwell on dreams, and forget to live…'

Her mind now rescued from the chaos the images had caused, she turned quickly from the mirror, and ran from the room, intent on finding her friends, and making sure they were alright.

Hermione was standing in her best robes, blue, which were deep at the bottom, and lightened as they reached her arms, on the grounds of Hogwarts. She was laughing; she was now seventeen, and graduating from Hogwarts. Harry had managed to defeat Voldemort for the final time nearly a month ago, she was alive, her friends were alive, and they were going out into the world. Her boyfriend/fiancé had his arms around her, and kept kissing her. She couldn't be happier, especially when she noticed Harry out of the corner of her eye, with his girlfriend, Ginny. Ginny's robes really looked magnificent, as did Harrys'. She was wearing a floaty green with gold embroidery, and he was wearing a deep impressive set inlaid with red and gold. The same robes they had all worn when they had collected their Order of Merlin: First Class each.

"Hermione, pay attention, Colin wants to take a photo!" Ginny yelled, as the younger boy tried to get his victims, aha, customers better arranged. Ron moved to stand behind the group, being so much taller than them, Harry stood beside her, a dramatically posed Ginny flinging herself on him. She batted her best friends' arms gently, and grinned as the red head put her tongue out at her. As she stood and gave the nervous photographer a toothy smile, she felt a sudden shiver, a sense of something. In her minds eye, she was dragged back to her first year, a scene she had seen in a mirror, a special mirror. But the thought was quickly thrown aside as Ron kissed her cheek, and she reached behind to kiss him properly. She was loved.

"SMILE!" Flash. The crack of the photo being taken.

_(Chorus)_


	5. Nightswimming

**Title:** Nightswimming

**Author:** FireOpal

**Summary:** As she went into the darkness, she saw nothing except blackness, and felt a presence come towards her. She stiffened reflexively, her hands by her sides, but was suddenly startled by a pair of soft lips descending on hers. Gasping silently at the unexpected contact, the unseen person slipped a tentative tongue into her mouth, and she responded, without realising what she was doing. It just seemed so right… (if it fits!)

**Pairing:** DM/HrG. Mentions of AS/FW, AJ/GeW.

**SONGFIC** – 'Nightswimming' by R.E.M.

**Genre:** Romance/Slight angst.

**11/05/2005** – Amendments made to lyrics when I discovered you weren't allowed to post lyrics in stories! Oops. Full original available via my profile page. Apologies guys.

Professor Hermione Granger, Transfiguration professor, Order of Merlin 1st Class, important member and researcher for the Order of the Phoenix, best friend to Harry Potter, co-destroyer of Voldemort and all round book-worm, sighed. She brushed the straggling ends of her messy brown hair from her haggard face and tucked it behind her ear for the millionth time with a lightly scarred hand. Her eyes, usually a bright, intelligent and energetic soft brown, were now tired and dull as she attempted to concentrate on the class-planning sheets that were scattered across her desk, lit by several floating candles and the moonlight which shone through the window. There were still the Gryffindor-Slytherin 3rd year classes to plan for the first term, and she couldn't concentrate, her overworked mind blank.

The war had left a lot of changes in the wizarding world. Including the shocking death of Albus Dumbledore, having died in his sleep some few days before the last battle. No one had survived unscathed, Harry himself had been laid up in St Mungo's for months, and could barely walk without a cane. Ron had been luckier, he had had his arm amputated after a tussle with Voldemort's snake, Nagini, and the fast-acting venom had spread through the limb before Professor Snape could brew up an antidote. She had been the least injured, but heavily scarred, with thin white lines that ran practically all over her thin body. Another obvious outward effect of the horrendous battle was the long, thin streak of pure white hair in her dark brown masses, caused by over-use of Cruciatus.

Many had died in the battles, other than the great Albus Dumbledore. Colin Creevey, Professor Sprout, Lavender Brown, Blaise Zabini (turned spy for the Light), Charlie Weasley, Dedalus Diggle, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Susan Bones, Alastor Moody (in a suicide rescue for a group of unarmed children) and many more. Too many. Apparently, all the names had been engraved magically onto a plaque in the Ministry foyer, and it took up an entire wall. Others had been severely disabled, like Harry and Ron. Snape would never walk again, literally. When Voldemort had found out who the main spy in his Inner Circle had been, he had not been lenient. He had taken both legs, and nearly driven the potions master insane through Cruciatus. It had taken one hell of a raid to get him out, but he still lived, and had been awarded several high-ranking medals for his bravery.

Others were now locked up in St. Mungo's Mental Health Department, where Alice and Frank Longbottom resided. Luna Lovegood and Alicia Spinnet had been the two that Hermione had known, and it had nearly killed the boisterous Weasley twin when he had heard about his beloved fiancé. Fred had never been the same, but he and George still continued with Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, Fred now providing a quiet, serious and sombre side to the duo. Everyone had been very worried about him for a long while, but he was smiling occasionally now, and his twins' marriage to Angelina Johnson had brightened him up a little.

Hermione turned away from her blank-eyed staring at parchment to gazing out of the window. The moon was full and white and round, and for a second she spared a thought for her good friend Remus Lupin. She had seen him earlier, when he had come to Hogwarts to receive his dose of Wolfsbane, and looked tired and ill as ever, but carried a smile. She hoped Harry would stay with him tonight in animagus form; he looked like he needed a break. Then she turned away from the beautiful scene outside and tried to concentrate. And failing miserably.

Throwing down her quill exasperatedly, she stood up abruptly, thin robes swirling around her legs as she left her chair and went to stand at the tall window, quietly conjuring a cup of steaming creamy coffee for herself. As she sipped the dark liquid, she winced slightly, and, waving her wand in a little known and fiddly manner, added more sugar. Drinking a second time, she nodded to herself, and gazed out of the window, trying to unwind and discover why she was so, so, on edge. The Forbidden Forest looked mysterious and inviting in the clear moonlight, the grass moved gently in a nighttime breeze, and the edge of the lake that she could see shone like crystal diamonds in the semi darkness. It was a picture of calmness, tranquillity, mystery, and strangely, comfort.

_(Verse)_

She could hear, and occasionally see, the owls hoot and swoop through the sky, silent and pale, like miniature ghosts. 'It must be late, the owls are out' she thought to herself, continuing to watch the almost still scene. When she glanced at her watch, she noticed it was half past one in the morning, way past her usual bedtime. As she turned back to the desk and chair, sitting amidst her personal library in her study, she suddenly felt a longing. To leave it all behind. To go out, to see the darkness, to taste the moonlight, to breathe the silence, to hear the breeze. For a second, her common sense tried to talk back – 'It's late, you're tired, you need to finish the work, it's not safe…', but she ignored it. She _needed_ this.

Continuing with the spur of the moment thoughts, she grabbed her summer cloak from where it lay over a chair, snuffed the lights with a flick of her wand, and absently summoned an item of clothing from her room. When she caught it and realised what her subconscious was thinking, she froze. She had thought it had been lost years ago, but the material in her hand proved to her that she had had it all along. Memories flew to her as she stood in the darkness, clinging to the magically water-resistant material.

Another night. Another moon. Another time… 

_It was dark, with a half-moon for her only light. The stars twinkled prettily, but were useless in giving her any more light, but she refused to light her wand, half in fear that she might be caught, half loving the sheer peace and darkness the night brought. Hermione sneaked out of the castle, having dodged the rest of her house by saying she was going to bed, then leaving after they had gone. She was wearing simple muggle clothes, having discarded her Hogwarts robes after the day ended, but held her cloak around her, even though the night was warm. Using common sense and intelligence, she melted into the shadows and ran swiftly and silently across the grounds, until she came to a secluded spot she had visited before. _

_Every time she was worried, frustrated, depressed, or scared, she would come, down to the lake, slip into the water, and swim in the moonlight. The stars would be her company, the moon her guidance, the water a caring lover around her body. And she would find peace. Calm. Quiet._

Hermione dragged her thoughts out of her past, but shrank the cloth and pocketed it anyway. _Just in case… _Throwing the cloak around her shoulders, she stood in front of the tall mirror beside her portrait-door. Her eyes were alight like she hadn't seen in a long time; the stiffness and worry had seemed to fly from her shoulders from the expectation. With a small frown that drew across her face quickly, she reached up, tapped her hair with her wand, and it was released from the tight, practical bun, sending wavy brown hair tumbling across her cloaked shoulders, small bits curling across her cheek in wisps. Smiling slightly in satisfaction, she raised her hood, and stepped out of her apartments into the hallway.

The journey through late-night and empty Hogwarts was mostly silent and uninteresting. The air, however, seemed to sense her anticipation, and the odd breeze that drifted through the halls she walked automatically, knowing every turn, made her walk slightly faster. It seemed the very grounds were calling to her…

Shivers ran down her spine as she reached the front doors, and feeling slightly silly as she looked round in slight trepidation, she slipped through them. Throwing the feeling of being watched behind her, she sighed as the breeze drifted across her face, lifting the few strands of hair that were loose from the hood. Feeling safer and calmer already than she had in a long time, she set towards her spot with a slow walk, savouring the night air as she breathed it deeply into her book-dust covered lungs.

_(Verse)_

She was there slightly slower than she expected; after all these years, her usual walk from the castle was interrupted by new trees, and different clearings, but she followed her instincts, and soon arrived at the little known beauty spot, which, to her looked exactly the same as it had when she was seventeen. Laying her wand down carefully on the grass in the same place she had left it before – in a snug section between the roots of a dead tree – she unclasped her cloak, and laid it on the ground so that she could sit down and take in the atmosphere, before she went into the water.

The shore-side clearing was small, about eight feet square, and shaded by overhanging trees, that were lush with green leaves, and the odd open flower. The grass was soft underfoot, and moved from grass to soft sand to lapping water in smooth gradients. There were two rocks, smooth rocks that had been weathered for many years, that stood like chairs, and they were where she usually draped her clothes, to stop them getting wet. The water that lapped at the secluded spot was soft and slightly cool, like satin, but in the warm August night, this was a blessing. It was dark in places, reflecting the beautiful silk sky, studded with sequin-stars, and the ghostly white moon, which swept through the sky like a slow moving bird.

As she glanced around, she thought back again to the last time she had come here, the night before they had all graduated in seventh year. She had wanted to almost say 'goodbye' to this place, in a way, and had come down alone and spent most of the night here, alternating between swimming out in the water, and just sitting alone, her last night of freedom before she had been thrust on a war-torn world. But there was something else too…

_A sudden movement from between the trees had startled her as she padded out of the water, ready to flop down onto her charmed-dry cloak. A glimpse of silver-grey eyes in the darkness was all she saw, but she went to investigate, curious and slightly nervous at being caught out alone, unprotected, out of bounds. As she went into the darkness, she saw nothing except blackness, and felt a presence come towards her. She stiffened reflexively, her hands by her sides, but was suddenly startled by a pair of soft lips descending on hers. Gasping silently at the unexpected contact, the unseen person slipped a tentative tongue into her mouth, and she responded, without realising what she was doing. It just seemed so right…_

_Too soon, the other person moved back, and Hermione, eyes closed shut in pleasure and love, opened her eyes to try to see who it was. All she saw was darkness, and silence was her only response to her whispered questions._

_"Hello? Who's there? Come back."_

_(Verse)_

Hermione slipped out of her robes and clothes, leaving them lying neatly on a nearby rock, safe out of the way of the water. Then she almost reverentially reached for the costume, and slowly pulled it on, suddenly worried it wouldn't fit. It had been a few years after all…

To her delight, the material wrapped around her form just as snug and as silkily as when she had first bought it. Then she walked down the waters edge, and stood in the moonlight for a second, looking across the tranquil waters before walking forwards and sinking her feet into the cool liquid. The small waves drifted over her skin, sending shivers down her spine, but she continued to walk slowly forwards into the lake, until the water was about waist high. She smiled slowly sot herself, the grin lighting her face, before she sprang forwards gracefully, and dived under the water.

It was like being surrounded by moonlight. It touched her skin, pulled her hair back from her face and soothed her mind. Bubbles released from her mouth as she breathed out, then holding her breath as she glided through the water, before reaching upwards, and breaking the water, gasping for breath. She trod water for a moment, revelling in the feeling. Water dripped from her hair, slicked across her pale skin, drained from her costume and she blinked it out of her eyes.

As her breath evened out, she began to stroke across the lake, gliding as gracefully as a swan in the moonlight. Occasionally she would duck her head under water to feel the cool liquid over her face, imagining the starlight over her skin instead of water. Then, near the middle of the lake, she turned and trod water to gaze at Hogwarts castle. From where she was, the majestic stone building rose out of the ground like a sheer cliff, and some trees that followed the rim of the lake stood framing it on either side. Even at this hour, there were a few twinkling lights on, in the Hospital Wing, and where she supposed McGonagle's office must be. It was spectacular, and for a few moments she was lost in the view.

Then she turned back to the shore and struck out again, now swimming faster, pushing herself to the limit. Still she made no splashes, but she was moving through the water like an otter cutting through the water. As she neared the edge and the water was shallower, she took a deep breath of air, and dived deep, touching the bottom of the lake, and she opened her eyes. Deep, marbled blue-green water surrounded her, white moonlight cutting through the clear water to give everything an eerie glow. There were a few nocturnal fish that steered away from the trespasser, and swam quickly away, scales flashing silver. Her hair swirled around her in the water as she moved slowly in this twilight world, her own pale skin shining ethereally.

Finally, the need for air became to great, and she flung herself to the surface, gasping as she reached it, and could breathe again. As she tried to calm her breathing, her eyes caught sight of something on the shore, something near her spot, something with grey eyes that shone between the trees…

Startled, she fell under the water again before she was able to breathe. Her quick, habitual breath took in a deep mouthful of water, which she tried to sputter back out, but only succeeded in taking in more water. Starting to panic, she tried desperately to hold her breath and get to the surface, but it seemed impossible. Her lungs on fire, her stomach heaving, limbs aching and head thumping, she flailed in the water and suddenly the thought passed through her panic-stricken mind – 'I'm drowning'.

On the shore, the man with grey eyes watched Hermione swim faster, then dive. He watched anxiously as she disappeared for a long while, and then blew out a deep breath as she resurfaced. His recaught breath hitched as his eyes locked with her startled brown, and she flailed in the water that just a second ago she had been moving through like a fish. He continued to watch as she disappeared beneath the surface, then swore quietly under his breath (but vehemently), before he unlatched his cloak and ran out into the lake, the water grabbing onto his robes like a dying man's grasp for life and weighting him down. He ignored it, even though a part of his mind that sounded like his deceased father was screaming silently that these were his best work robes. He had ignored that voice for most of his life; he wasn't about to start now. Not when she was in danger.

As he reached where she had gone down, he was swimming, fully clothed. Part of his mind, the part that wasn't screaming at him about his robes, or yelling that she was drowning, or completely blank in horror, told him that he should've left his robes on the shore, and that it was a damn good thing that his father had chucked him into the lake before fully clothed so he would 'learn survival'. Without hesitating, he dived into the water, eyes fully open and struck deep to where he could see his love's flailing form fall through the water. She reached out and latched onto his arm, and he threw that arm more safely around her body, before using his feet and remaining free arm to pull them both out of the water.

They broke the surface, gasping for air, their lungs screaming. Hermione was coughing weekly, trying to get the water out, and had no energy to move, so she hung onto the mysterious stranger as he set back out to shore. Silver eyes swam back to the shore, ignoring his now painful limbs and gasping throat, his only thought on Hermione's safety. Hermione alone was his worry, and his fervour leant him strength enough to bring them to shore, where he stood up, lifting her half-limp body in his arms, cradling her, and walked out of the water, his robes dead weight on his shoulders.

He laid her down gently on the grass, reaching for his cloak and wrapping it around her shivering form. Grabbing his wand from where he'd dropped it before entering the water, he muttered a quick drying charm on her, and helped her cough up the water, before letting her lay back. He saw her weak smile, which made his thumping heart flutter suddenly as though it had morphed into a butterfly. And as her eyes met his, he knew that she knew who he was. And she would either accept him, or throw him away.

The mysterious man dragged her clean out of the water, and she felt him carry her to sore and lay her down in a watery daze. She felt him try to help her cough up the water, and gave him a weak smile as he set her down again, and the fog over her mind started to clear. As her eyes met mercury silver ones, her brain was clear enough to register the face… silver eyes, refined, aristocratic features, sopping wet blonde hair…

"Draco?" she gasped weakly, her eyes flickering over his face searchingly. His pale skin flushed slightly, but he held her gaze and nodded slightly. She gazed into his eyes for a few more seconds, and then whispered breathily. "Why?" Draco Malfoy thought for a second, wondering how to reply. He was startled when he heard his voice answer without any thought at all on his part.

"You were drowning, I couldn't leave you there." Her eyes narrowed fractionally, and he sighed slightly.

"Why were you here?"

"I-I, I wanted to see you."

"See me, Draco? Why? I thought you hated me?" Inwardly, he cursed. 'I really wish I hadn't had to make her think that.' 'But at the time, my cover was more important.' A sensible part of his mind replied. 'More important than her feelings?'

"I never hated you, Hermione." She was shocked. Even when he had turned spy for the Light side, she and Ron and Harry had always been Granger, Weasley and Potter. And here he was using her first name… And the way he said it, rolling off his tongue, so beautiful…

"And you wanted to see me?" Hell, she was persistant! But then, that was one of the many things he loved about her…

"Yes." She almost rolled her eyes, before he continued. "Would, would you understand better if I told you, I told you that the reason I joined the Light side, the real reason I joined the Order of the Phoenix, was, well, was because of you?" She was stunned. He sacrificed his life, nearly died, and turned from his father, his family and his friends, because of her? For her, Hermione the know-it-all Mudblood?

_(Verse)_

Draco watched nervously as she obviously reeled internally at this information. He could see her thinking it through, and quickly as ever, coming to the logical conclusion.

"Before, the night before graduation, that was you?" she whispered tentatively, eyes confused and messy with torn emotions. He nodded, averting his eyes from the beautiful face before him. Only when he felt a soft, slightly cold hand touch his face gently and turn his face back, did he look at her. Then she reached up, pulling his head down, and their lips met in a tender kiss, Draco's still wet lips against Hermione's dry. It was short, but to both parties very satisfactory. When he pulled back, Draco's puzzled and stormy mercury eyes searched hers.

"Why?" was now Draco's question, and Hermione smiled slightly when she heard it.

"Because I love you. And I think I always have."

"But how could you have loved me? I pretended to hate you for nearly seven years!"

"I saw right through you." She laughed. "And when you joined us, I knew I'd been right all along. Simple." She grinned, lighting up her face. "And besides, you just saved my life. That's got to tell a girl something."

Draco smiled, and for a second, Hermione was shocked. It light up his entire face, made him look so much more beautiful. She smiled back at him, revelling in how happy and comfortable this felt. Being here, with him.

Suddenly, he stood up, and helped her to her feet, and steadying her. He placed her cloak around her shoulders as well as his own, and retrieved her wand and clothes from the floor, letting Hermione take her wand, but barely noticing when she cast a drying charm over him. He half-carried her up to the castle, and, just as she thought he was going to be overprotective and take her to the Hospital Wing, he turned and walked to her apartments, his feet unhesitant. At her inquiring look as to how he knew the journey to her door so well, he blushed and mumbled that he came to check on her occasionally, and always chickened out. She grinned at him, and lay tiredly back in his safe arms.

She had to tell him the password to her apartment – '_Fereverto' – _and he walked through the door, and straight into her bedroom, laying her on the bed. Pointing his wand at her chest, he performed, to Hermione's growing amazement, several quite comprehensive and complex healing charms, and felt her body relax and heal under them. Then, he tucked her into bed professionally, just as Poppy Pomfrey or Ginny Weasley, her assistant, would, before conjuring a leather armchair near to her bed and nearly flopping down on it. At her questioning and amused gaze, he replied, in a certain tone of voice that there was no way he was leaving a patient on her own. He smiled at her and lay back, watching as she closed her eyes and softly slipped into sleep, watching over her all the time.

_(Verse)_


	6. Regrets

**Title: **Regrets

**Author: **FireOpal

**Summary**Their hair mingled, tickling her face, bright sunlight shining merrily off of hers, setting it aflame against the cold frozen snow. Emerald eyes sparkled suggestively as he drew back, and she grinned. – Regrets are like illnesses, the more you have, the worse you feel, and some stay with you for a long time.

**Pairing(s): **SS/LP(E)

**SONGFIC** – 'What If?' by Kate Winslet.

**F/N: **Another one, my friends! Today we have an oddly inspired one – for three days, three long whole days this song and idea have flitted around my head, demanding to be written. It's not quite how I imagined it, but, after some thought, it's probably better! This song is so beautiful, and perfectly captured this idea to me. It's quite a sad one I'm afraid, with non-canon ideas. I even spent a sleepless night the other night (I just couldn't sleep!) thinking of a whole plotline for this, which I could write if prompted… hint-hint! However, my current HP fic, 'Pain, Prophecies and Power' would get main priority, and as would a soon-to-be-posted fic, currently nameless. Ah well, have a read!

**11/05/2005** – Amendments made to lyrics when I discovered you weren't allowed to post lyrics in stories! Oops. Full original available via my profile page. Apologies guys.

_**(Verse 1)**_

A dark, shadowy figure sat at an ornate and old wooden desk, his head in his hands, greasy black hair lying messily over his pale fingers. He had had That Boy again last lesson, emerald glaring up at him with hatred. To see those eyes look at him so, reminded him forcefully of another pair of eyes, identical to those that flashed with anger. Lily's eyes. Once, she had looked at him with love, understanding, care, but then, one mistake, leading to bigger mistakes, the pebble that creates the avalanche, and those eyes, her eyes glaring at him with disgust and hatred, hurt and pain.

Unknown to Severus Snape, an invisible figure stood in the corner, unable or willing to disturb the depressing silence. In life, she had had long and beautiful hair, golden red and fiery, with expressive green eyes, and a caring face, a loving nature that extended to all - especially the man before her. She was only allowed back once a year, tonight, to see how the world had changed and to see her family. All Hallow's Night, the night she had died, murdered by an evil wizard, dying to protect her young son, she could return. Tonight, she would visit others, but, for now, she remained. And she watched as he stood to pour himself a glass of whiskey, as he did every Halloween Night, and silently toasted her. Once it had embarrassed her, but now it only brought a heart-wrenching sadness, a glimpse at the loneliness of the good man in front of her.

Her husband normally joined her on these excursions, wanting to see his son and his friends. But tonight she was alone, and treasured the chance, the rare opportunity.

Severus sat down, unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk, reached down and removed an ornate silver frame. The picture in it was simple; a man and a woman, smiling, laughing, embracing, the red haired woman leaning over to kiss the black eyed man on the cheek. It had been winter that picture had taken, the Christmas of their seventh year.

_Come on, Sev, we need a picture of our final year together, here at Hogwarts! It'll be the last time we can ever do this, please? For me?" The pretty young woman fluttered her golden eyelashes outrageously, and Severus smiled, the small change lighting up his face. They stood, close, his arms loosely around hers, each muffled up warmly – one scarf red and gold, one green and silver. His shiny ebony hair fluttered in the wind, mingling with hers. The woman giggled at the wry grin he pulled, before she took out an overlarge camera, placing it on the grass. _

_With her wand, she positioned it, levitating it into exactly the right position, and turning it on with a small flick of the end. Severus immediately ambushed his love, picking her up fully in his arms and twirling her around. Shrieks of excited terror mingled with deep laughter, until he put her down, out of breath. She whirled on him, knocking him bodily to the floor, ignoring the snow accumulating on their clothes. Smiling sweetly, she pecked him on the lips before he flipped her over, kissing her just as chastely – on her nose, slightly pink from the cold. Pouting, the woman extracted another laugh from her normally serious love, and he kissed her properly, and gently. Their hair mingled, tickling her face, bright sunlight shining merrily off of hers, setting it aflame against the cold frozen snow. Emerald eyes sparkled suggestively as he drew back, and she grinned._

_Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of white light, and an enormous poof of smoke as the camera went off, and they descended into giggles. She pushed him up, and he helped her up, holding out a gentlemanly hand, which she took, and promptly leant over to peck him on the cheek. _

He gave the memory a bittersweet tug of his lips, before his eyes sank again. She knew what he would be remembering now, as it was foremost in her mind – long forgiven but not forgotten.

_"That Potter's still after you, isn't he?" a black haired teen asked seriously. Lily looked away, knowing her eyes would betray the truth. He let out his breath in one explosive sigh, banging his hand gently on the tabletop. It didn't help his frustration._

"_He'll get fed up of it after a while, he'll move onto another." Lily said calmly and comfortingly, reaching out to touch his hand. Her eyes were soft and compassionate, despite her anger at the brash teen that did everything possible to hurt her love._

"_He won't." Severus said harshly, pulling his hand back. Anger flared in the fiery young woman._

"_He can do whatever he wants, I will never go to him." Severus avoided her eyes. Icy coldness sinking in her stomach, she stood and spoke coldly, thankful that the library was empty in this secluded corner. "I see. You don't trust me. Well, if that's the way it is, then I'd better run along, hadn't I? Don't want to stay where I'm not trusted."_

"_Lily-"Severus said, looking up with shocked eyes._

"_No." she said angrily, her eyes flashing. "You have shown time and time again that you can't trust me to ignore Potter, so I think it's time we left this. Goodnight Severus." _

_**(Pre-Chorus)**_

Lily berated herself angrily as she remembered looking back at the door where Severus couldn't have seen her, and the way he placed his head in his hands, his world breaking, his heart torn in two. She hadn't meant to say that, she knew his mother was dead and his father was working for Voldemort, pressuring his son to do something he didn't want to do, and on top of being shunned by the school, he was desperately lonely, crying out for contact, for love. She had given him this, and torn it away, blinded by one stupid argument. Or maybe it was two.

_**(Chorus)**_

_It was a different time, a different place. A lone figure stood outside in the deep snow, cloaked and obvious against the beautiful white backdrop. It was just after Christmas, a lonely Christmas, in which his father had called him back to the house for the holidays, taking him away from his home, Hogwarts._

_It wasn't yet curfew, and another person walked across to the solitary person hesitantly, hooded so that you couldn't see her trademark red hair. Presently, Severus turned to look expressionlessly at the woman, his onyx eyes pain-filled. She swallowed, and walked closer so that she was stood next to him._

"_I-" she started, then summoned up her Gryffindor courage. "I'm sorry. And I didn't mean what I said. I was just annoyed, and took it out on you, and I'm really sorry." She lowered her head, letting one sparkling teardrop from her closed eyes. Tentatively, he reached a hand to brush it off of her face, the watery diamond shining in his hand for a few seconds. She looked up at his touch, and took his hand as he withdrew it, gently. Her warm hand was soft against his cold pale fingers, and she could tell he had been standing out here for a while._

"_I'm sorry." Was all he said, averting his eyes to hide his own tears. Lily wrapped him in a loose hug, drawing back as he winced and breathed in sharply at her touch._

"_What's wrong?" she said concernedly, her eyes searching his expressionless face. Still he avoided her eyes, and clutched his right forearm tightly, biting his lip. Carefully, she reached out to remove his cloak, to see what the problem was, but he batted her hand away harshly, stepping back. "What's the matter?" she repeated; worry growing in her. As he continued to avoid her contact, she withdrew her wand, muttering a few choice words that made his arms snap around his back, his cloak to sweep over his shoulder, and his sleeve to brush up his thin arm. What she saw made her stagger backwards, her eyes hurt and shocked and disgusted._

_It was the Dark Mark, searing a deep and evil black on the pale skin, reddened by pain. Severus flinched back, and sprang out of the spells, roughly ripping his sleeve back down and his cloak tightly around his shoulders. Without a word, she fled back to the castle, tears streaking her face and ignoring the anguished cries from behind her, and the tears he shed. _

_**(Verse 2)**_

Lily closed her eyes against the memory, but it was useless. How was she to know that his father had dragged him in front of the Dark Lord, threatening his own son with torture and death if he didn't do as he was told. All she knew was the Dark Mark, scarring his arm and ruining his life, their love. Any chance of happiness for Severus was cut short that day, and the years were long and hard upon him before he had the courage to go to Dumbledore and start the dangerous game. Maybe he had thought she would return to him, understand if he proved to her that he hadn't wanted it, never wanted it, but it was in vain.

She had done what she had sworn many times to not do – in her shock and despair, she had turned to Potter, revelling in his love and adoration, but never being able to return it. The goofy teen had taken her out, the school had sighed over the 'perfect couple' and her friends had cheered her on. All feelings for the dark eyed watcher who hid in shadows where hidden underneath this crushing weight of peer pressure and unrequited love, and only appeared in the dark of night where her soul cried out for love. Then he proposed to her, and, in a fit of anger maybe, she had answered yes, and they became the perfect couple, the vanguard fighters of the Light - the handsome, rich, pureblooded Auror and his beautiful, kind, loving wife.

_**(Pre-chorus)**_

Then, when he had gone off to fight some battle or other, and she was left at home alone, those feelings she had buried had resurfaced like some lake monster, waiting to strike. In a flurry of urgent need, she had fled to his house, confronted by the pale man she had so long yearned. He had let her in, surprised to say the least, and she had poured her heart out to him, not caring if he truly believed in the ideals of his master and wanted her dead, just wanting, needing the love she had once shared. Somehow, in the night, he had taken her to bed, and what they shared was wonderful, like reconnecting a piece of her. When she had woken in the morning, shocked by her actions and dreading others' knowledge, she had whispered her vow of love and silent apologies to her sleeping love, tears streaming her cheeks as she cleverly obliviated him.

_**(Chorus)**_

The result was a healthy young boy some nine months later. With his mothers' bright emerald eyes and ebony hair, he was easily mistaken for James' son, and she took every pain to ensure it stayed that way. After many months of research, she had found a spell that would mould itself to the young infant and make him take on the appearance of another. Intending to remove it once the war was over, or her son was old enough to understand, she cast the spell, and revelled in her position as wife to James Potter, and father of his child, until they were forced into hiding by Dumbledore, for reasons he would not explain.

A year later, they were found. Voldemort himself blasted into their home, slaughtering her husband and murdering her as she protected her son, their son. Hoping the ancient magic would be enough to save his life, she threw herself in front of him, and felt the blast of emerald light, but also the warmth and tingle as the magic left her to guard her child.

_**(Pre-chorus)**_

And now, her son, her beautiful son – despite his fathers' appearance – was sixteen, thrown in the middle of events he didn't understand and a war he should never have had to fight, not knowing his own father, not knowing that he loathed the very man who created him.

Severus fought the tears as he thought back to his beloved Lily, and her son, with her beautiful eyes, her eyes staring out of his face – Potters' face. He owed everything to Lily, and meant to treat her son well, but as soon as he had seen him at that first Welcoming Feast, he had been Potter's son, not Lily's son, and an overwhelming surge of hatred had grown within him, and remained to this day.

"Oh Lily." He whispered brokenly, rubbing his hands tiredly over his face. It was true – loneliness and solitude and hatred aged you faster than any length of time, and it seemed to have treated him the worst. If only he'd not argued, if he'd believed her, believed his heart, and told her of his fathers' plans, Dumbledore could maybe have let him stay at Hogwarts. Life without the Dark Mark…

When she heard his hushed cry, her heart cried.

"Severus." She replied, knowing he would not hear her, would never hear her until her joined her in death. A tear fell from her eyes, but there was no one there to brush it away for her.

_**(Pre-chorus)**_

If only she'd listened, cared, helped, understood, stayed by his side, none of the would have happened. For one fleeting second, she imagined a house, Severus' house, with him standing at the door, his arms around her shoulders, a smile on his face. Two children would play in front of them, one boy, green eyed with his father's black hair, the other a girl with dark red hair and dark black eyes, eyes that sparkled. His eyes. If she had stayed…

(Chorus) 


	7. Wherever You Will Go

**F/N:- **Another one mateys, as I'm editing the rest of my songfics. I had a bit of a shock when I realised you weren't allowed lyrics in stories. Oh well, it's sorted now. Originals are available via me (inc. lyrics for you who can't find them online). Another HP/GW fic, another song from The Calling. I love these guys!

**Title** – Wherever You Will Go

**Genre – **Angst/Romance

**Summary – "**_The last thing he felt, just as he slipped into peaceful dark was the ghosting of soft lips over his, wet and salty as if with tears. He heard the whispered 'I love you' and succumbed to death." _It's after the last battle, and Harry returns to watch his wife sleep. HP/GW.

* * *

Harry sat, half-perched on the edge of the bed, watching his wife, Ginevra Weasley, sleep. He watched her chest rise and fall slightly as she drew in life-giving breath, and as she breathed out, watching a few strands of her soft red hair flutter in the tiny breeze, the threads shining bronze and gold when they caught the light. He watched her eyelashes, the same beautiful ruby red, like phoenix fire, as they lay gracefully on her soft, white skin. And he continued to watch as she turned over, her back to the middle of the double bed, arm flopping over the side of the bed, and hair spreading over the pillow.

The sun was shining brightly through the window, the curtains having been left open by accident the night before. It was a stunning sunrise, the golds and pinks and blues and purples all mixing together with the oranges and reds surrounding the yellowing disc, promising another great day. Out of the window he could see the back garden of their small house, where a tall, flourishing tree stood among the lush grass. It would be a great day for Quidditch.

_(Verse 1)_

Harry smiled sadly, watching the breeze tug at the branches, before reverting his gaze back to the woman before him. She was smiling now. His silvery eyes glistened with tears, but he smiled too, and continued to watch his love sleep. Soon, too soon she would wake, wake, and find him gone again. Then she would cry, and he would cry, and she would never know that he was stood beside her, wishing he could take away all her pain.

Of course, thoughts like these always brought his mind back to That Day. And it definitely deserved the capitals.

_Harry stood, black robes billowing around his legs, facing Voldemort. He was grinning, his putrid, snake-like face twisted into an evil smirk. He was toying with him, pushing his buttons, but this time, Harry wouldn't fall for it._

_"So, boy, here to revenge your parents deaths? And that ugly mutt I suppose. Good family that one, shame he went bad. Or should I say good?" he laughed, high-pitched and menacing. "And who'd have thought that from their little group, of all people, Peter would come to me, offering his services? Of course, he had his uses."_

_Harry tightened his grip on his wand, not in anger, but in concentration. His hands were getting sweaty, and it was affecting his grip._

_"Or are you just trying to prove yourself? A boy, that is all you are. A meddlesome boy. And I really don't want to disappoint you, but Harry, you can't win." He emphasised 'can't' especially, trying to rub it in the emerald-eyed man's face. But Harry ignored him, he had other things to concentrate on. He needed to get the timing just right…_

_"I wonder what we shall play today, Harry? Maybe I should instruct Bellatrix and her friends to find your friend, Lupin, is that his name? Maybe they should, 'play', with him too?"_

_Voldemort, too busy gloating, never saw it coming. Barely noticed as Harry raised his wand at his side, missed the glance the man gave two people who stood near by, currently captive by Death Eaters – Albus and his Ginny. The old man looked uncharacteristically sad, but then he knew Harrys' plan. The only other one who knew. He was currently holding the shoulder of his furious and panicked wife, who shared his emotion-filled gaze for a few short seconds that filled an eternity. He mouthed three short words at her across the room as Voldemort continued to laugh._

_'I love you.' Then, turning back to his arch-nemesis, he muttered the incantation, in a voice, which suddenly filled the room._

"_Avada Kedavra."_

_(Chorus)_

As the emerald light span it's way across the short distance, Harry felt peace. Voldemort finally noticed something was wrong – his enemy shouldn't be fighting back – shock crossed his face, anger, surprise, disgust. Hate. Then he froze as the light enveloped his chest, cutting right through his thin torso, and sending him to the floor, crumpled. Just as Harry watched the frozen face before him, he saw the sudden glimpse of another emotion across the gaunt face – freedom. Then, his knees crumpling, the dead body of Lord Voldemort, Tom Riddle, fell to the floor.

_At that precise second, Harry felt the expected but sudden pain grip his chest and his forehead, directly along the scar. He heard the screams of Death Eaters – worried and angry at the death of their master-, Order members and his friends at him as he fell to the floor, his knees buckling, his vision fading, his heart dying. Voldemort's unbeknown curse had struck – linked through Harry's scar, the spell from Harrys' own wand was killing him._

_The last thing he felt, just as he slipped into peaceful dark was the ghosting of soft lips over his, wet and salty as if with tears. He heard the whispered 'I love you' and succumbed to death. _

Funny how the mind, in the last few moments before death records everything with crystal clear precision: he could still feel the touch of her lips, the taste of salty tears, smell her sweet scent of vanilla and chocolate, hear her whispered words, feel the love.

_(Verse 2)_

Ginny was waking now, sleepily, her eyelids fluttering open to greet the new day. Alone. With a pang, Harry suddenly sobbed. He wanted to hold her, to tell her it was going to be alright, or better still, to slip into that bed, snuggle up against her and tell her it was all a nightmare, that he was alive, that he loved her. But he couldn't. The best he could do, would be to terrify her out of her wits by wrapping ice-cold arms around her, kiss ice kisses across her cheek, give her part of him back. But he couldn't do that. And so he would watch, and wait. Cry her tears, laugh her laughs, and watch her live and love and wait until they could be reunited.

_(Chorus)_

What he wouldn't give for just one kiss, one meeting, one time to hold her close. Anything. If he could go back in time and take back the past, but his destiny had been preset from that fateful Halloween night. He had always known, ever since Dumbledore had told him about the prophecy, that there would be this moment. And he still hated it.

Closing his eyes briefly, he felt something akin to warmth run down his shoulders, as if someone had cast a warm Disillusionment charm down his neck. Opening his eyes, he stared wide-eyed as the colour ran down his arms like ink. Tanned brown skin, green shirt, black jeans, and, when he ran to the mirror, green eyes. Shocked, he dimly noticed he was still slightly transparent, but with colour. Like stained glass.

A muffled groan from the bed as Ginny pulled herself up brought his attention, and he swivelled round. Could she see him?

That question was quickly answered as the woman looked up, then froze, staring straight at him. Her face was amok with emotion, and her eyes bright.

"Harry?" she said weakly, stepping forwards. Harry, stunned and not knowing what to do, stay stood there, and watched her as she approached, tears gleaming in her eyes. His eyes followed her greedily, and as she reached out to brush him with delicate fingers, he reached out to touch her hand. It was solid.

Suddenly, as if they had been waiting for a cue, Harry pulled her forwards into his embrace as she rushed forwards into his arms. She was truly crying now, great tears, and for that matter, so was he. They clutched each other for their lives, both continuing to make sure the other was there.

_(Verse)_

Ginny looked up into his eyes, still almost disbelieving. She ran a hand across his cheek, and he shivered.

"Ginny." He whispered brokenly, stroking the hair out of her face. Then he reached down and captured her lips in a kiss. It was bliss, wonderful paradise, heaven, an accumulation of everything he had ever wished for, hoped for, dreamed for.

"I love you." He said as they broke away. "I've always loved you. I want you to remember that, Gin."

"I love you too, Harry. And I could never forget. But how-" Her features formed a small frown as she tried to figure out how her dreams had come true.

"I don't know. But I've been watching you." He laughed lightly, thinking how corny that sounded. "And I want you to know that I'll still watch over you, but I want you to be happy, and to love and to live and be old and have grandchildren. And when you come to join me, I'll be waiting for you."

"Why can't I come with you now? Or why can't you stay? It's so unfair, after what you did, and they took you away from me, away from us."

"I know, Gin." Harry smiled sadly, holding her close. "It's unfair, but I'll be here as long as I can, and you'll never be alone."

_(Verse 3)_

Ginny was crying again, but trying vainly not to, and smiling despite them. Harry continued.

"And you can't join me, because I don't want you to die." As Ginny start to protest, he stopped her with a quick look. "You have a long life ahead of you, and I want you to enjoy it first. You need to live, I need you to live, everyone needs you to live." As Ginny still had the patent Weasley-stubborness look plastered over her features, he tried a different tack.

"Will you do it for me? Will you live for me?" At this the look faded, and tears appeared in her eyes again.

"I will, Harry." She whispered in his ear as she pulled herself up and breathed in his smell – cologne and blue skies. "I will do it for you."

_(Chorus)_

As they held each other close again, Harry felt the cold spread back down his arms and torso, spreading to his legs slowly.

"I have to go." He whispered, kissing her cheek lightly where the tears fell. Ginny had her eyes tight shut and her head bowed, but nodded.

"I love you." They both said at the same time, and then Harry disappeared.

Ginny stood for a moment, letting the tears fall, then brushed them away. She glanced around herself, and tried to grin at thin air, while Harry watched.

"Well, if you want me to live for you, I'd better start then." She dressed quickly and went to the door, turning back as she left.

"And don't forget to follow me. One rule only – no watching me with another man!" Harry laughed, grinning hugely, and even though she could not possibly have heard, she seemed to guess, and walked out into the world, her invisible, silent love along with her.

(Chorus) 


End file.
